“Cobbler” Horn and Miss Jemima exchanged glances.
“This is truly wonderful!” said he.
“Not at all!” retorted she. “The wonder is, Thomas, that you and I have been so blind all this time.”
“The Golden Shoemaker” smiled gently, as he lay back upon his pillows. The image of a small, dark-eyed child held possession of his mind; and he had not been able readily to bring himself to see his little Marian in any other form. As for any real doubt, there was only a shred of it left in his mind now. Yet he still said to himself that he must make assurance doubly sure.
“Well, Tommy,” he said, “we are very much obliged to you. And now, will you do us another kindness? We are expecting some friends this afternoon who may be able to give us a good deal of light on this subject. Will you come, when we send for you, and hear what they have to say?”
“That I will!” was the hearty response, “I’ll come, Mr. Horn, whenever you send.”
“You have met these friends before, Tommy,” said “Cobbler” Horn. “They are Mr. and Mrs. Burton—at the ‘Home,’ you know.”
Tommy nodded.
“They found Miss Owen when she was a very little girl; and brought her up as their own child; and we hope that what they may tell us about her will help us to decide whether what we think is true.”
Tommy nodded again with beaming eyes, and shortly afterwards took his leave.